


Six Missing Years

by winter_dreaming



Category: Captain Marvel (2019)
Genre: Blood Bond, Cold War, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotions aren't just for Earth, Eventual Romance, F/F, F/M, Found Family, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, smart-assery
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-07-25
Packaged: 2020-05-20 06:22:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19371190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_dreaming/pseuds/winter_dreaming
Summary: This takes place after Carol Danvers gets her powers, exploring her rehabilitation and indoctrination at the hands of the Kree.





	1. One good soldier

**Author's Note:**

> I live for comments and kudos, so don't be shy if you like it!

No matter the homeworld, good soldiers only die one way. Fighting. While Yon-Rogg's career had been built on countless deaths, this was the one that would destroy it. His mission - a failure. The core – gone. And the only person who had any insight into Mar-Vell's plans was about to join the Collective. 

This mission had been his chance to show the Supreme Intelligence that he was worthy of the honor of command, despite his genetic structure. He knew now that he was unworthy. So, why then should he outlive his usefulness? Commander Minn-Erva would take over, excellent genetic stock, and be the leader he never could. 

He approached the dying soldier, wary of the energy coursing through her. The seizures were tapering off; the end was close. He put his weapon under his chin and sent out a quick prayer to the Supreme Intelligence. For understanding? Forgiveness? He didn't know. He held his breath and waited for the right moment. Would the Supreme Intelligence allow Minn-Erva to have solo command? Or would they be punished, dishonored for his mistake? 

_I have to make this right._

He exhaled in a whoosh and gathered his thoughts. 

Suddenly, there was a sharp pain at his throat. 

"Need a little help there, buddy?" the soldier asked, bloody hand steady on the knife. 

He reacted on instinct, breaking her arm in two places and tossing the knife away. She managed to buck him off – no small feat, that – before she lost consciousness. He retreated to the still-blazing wreck of Mar-Vell's craft to think. 

_Perhaps, she could be kept functionally alive until we harvest the energy? Or the genetic structure allowing her to temporarily house it…_

He brought up his comms link. "We need medical here, for a Terran." 

"It'll take some time, commander. Is she stable?" 

He peered at her through the tendrils of smoke. "She's…" 

"Commander?" 

_She's coming right for me,_ he thought in amazement. 

She'd folded her broken arm beneath her, eyes fixed on his, and pulled herself forward with the other. With a brief pause at Mar-Vell's body, she clawed at the soil and willed herself onward. 

He'd seen formidable fighters before, true warriors, heroes, and he worshipped them all. Their drive, their purpose, their control. The Kree Empire had survived because such heroes stood as its guardians. He saw potential in her, and while he could offer a sort of abstract admiration for her grief at Mar-Vell's passing, it _had_ slowed her down. Hesitation like that could spell life or death in a fight. 

"I must ask you to stop," he called. "You are only worsening your injuries." 

She grimaced and moved forward regardless, even a little faster than before, her body glowing more brightly. He understood then that she would never stop. She'd die trying to reach him. 

"Commander, do you copy? Is the Terran stable?" 

"She's strong, but not stable. Get here now." 

That's how the medics found them – Commander Yon-Rogg requesting exfiltration assistance and the Terran soldier less than a foot from him, her bloody fist stretched toward his boot. 

Terran engines, alarms sounded in the distance as they carefully loaded her body onto the medical transport. Personnel swarmed around her – personal and professional curiosity. He sent the onlookers back to their posts for take-off and watched the medics do their work. The ship suddenly jolted, knocking him off his feet and a Terran craft zipped by, firing what no-doubt passed as advanced weaponry on C-53. The ship rocked again, the medic hissing in frustration as she attempted to get the delicate neural implant in place. 

"It won't link, sir. Too much blood loss. She's too far gone and Terran biology isn't strong enough." 

_That body is too weak for such a will._

He shucked off his uniform and rolled up a sleeve. "Take my blood." 

"Sir?" 

"That's an order, lieutenant." 

The medic licked her lips nervously. "Yes, sir. Verifying your blood and rights to dispense it." She inserted the filter into his arm. "Strength- 100, Obedience – 90, Discipline – 80, Agility- 70, Dexterity- 60, Leadership- 50, Emotions, subgroup positive: faith, resilience, devotion – 80; Emotions, subgroup negative- doubt, hopelessness, passion – 80," she finished uncertainly. 

The Kree had tried their best to maximize the good and minimize the bad. His genetic profile was common enough – for a rank-and-file shocktrooper. Physical strength and obedience. No Kree commander had ever possessed a leadership reading below 80 before the Supreme Intelligence elevated him to the command path. No Kree commander had ever been given the emotional readings necessary for the brutality of planet cleansing before him. He used to take pride in that – he'd been gifted a chance, but it was through his own self-mastery that he had graduated the rigorous Kree command school and had been given a mission. 

"Confirm," he responded, though the medic still hesitated. 

"My blood is just as blue as yours, lieutenant. She'll need strength to survive the next few hours." 

"Yes, sir!" 

The second his blood hit her system, the energy crackled through her body. She gasped. "Murder-er," she managed as the seizures began again. 

"Hold her down!" he shouted. 

He thought of the pause at Mar-Vell's body and the soil caked under her bleeding fingernails and positioned himself at her head. 

"Well done, soldier," he whispered. "You did it." The glow at her hands immediately began to fade. "Lawson has been avenged. You finished her mission and destroyed the energy core." The seizures wracking her body became nothing more than a tremble. 

"She- dead?" the soldier wheezed. 

He hesitated. "Yes, but you made her very proud." 

"Maria, Monica – safe?" 

"Yes," he lied and noted the names. 

A smile tugged at her blood-spattered face. "Good," she said and the sparks died out completely. She'd fallen asleep, into real, healing sleep, the pallor of death slowly receding as his blood filled her body. 

"Yes, very good," he said faintly. _My career might just survive this_ , he thought before he collapsed.


	2. A living weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yon-Rogg is kind of a bastard here - playing on what he thinks of as her weaknesses.

"Your head is _really_ heavy," a female voice said directly into his ear. 

He shot upright, heart racing and finger on the trigger, before he placed his surroundings. 

_The medical transport. The soldier._

His head pounded with a sickening beat. "What happened?" he slurred, thumping down into a chair. 

"I think that's supposed to be _my_ question," she said, propping herself up on the bed. He groaned and tried to focus. "What can I say, hot stuff, you're a giver," she chirped, gesturing to the tubes that had connected them before his abrupt awakening. She studied him more closely. "Medic?" she called into the hallway and was answered by the thud of footsteps. 

"Commander! Everything alright?!" Two medics and an impressive four security officers appeared in the small room. 

"He gave me too much blood," she volunteered, watching the scene with interest. Despite his lethargy, he could see she had marked the presence of security, the cautious distance they were keeping her at, while they gave him a strong stim. 

"Ma'am?" 

The senior medic turned to her in astonishment. 

"I'd like to hit the showers before the debrief." 

_Debrief?_ the medic mouthed at Yon-Rogg, although her astonishment was no less than his own. He narrowed his eyes at the soldier, seeking any evidence of falsehood. 

_It can't be,_ he thought. _Could she believe that she is…but how to test --_

_She'll either blast us all…or she'll be the weapon that wins us the war_ , he thought as he realized what he needed to do. 

"Is that what you call being at attention?!" he barked and his heart soared as she immediately struggled to pull herself upright and stand on the floor. 

_Supreme Intelligence, she thinks she's Kree_ , he thought in awe. 

"At ease," he said and she stopped struggling. 

"Can you give us the room?" he asked and gave the security officers a nod to encourage them out the door. 

_She could win us the war...if she survives._

He pulled the room's only chair closer to her gurney, confident she wouldn't attack, and considered how to approach her. 

"We need to do the debrief now, I'm afraid. I'm Starforce Commander Yon-Rogg." _Although, if this works I may be a general by tomorrow,_ he thought. 

Much to his surprise, she held out her hand. He hesitated a moment before clasping her firm grip with his own. 

"Can you tell me what your name is?" he asked. 

She shot him a pitying look and sighed. "Really? Okay, fine. My name is…" she trailed off, shook her head and began again. "I'm…" she swallowed nervously. She pursed her lips and shifted her eyes from him to the ceiling. He waited, respectfully, while she gathered her thoughts, and choked back tears. 

"Looks like my ego is writing checks my body can't cash," she said shakily, once she'd gotten herself under control and could face him again. "Guess this won't be much of a debrief from my end of things. What happened?" 

"You were apparently guarding a Starforce facility in a small part of the quadrant. Skrulls attacked and you were the only one who survived." He watched her closely, seeing if she absorbed the lie. Now came the real test. He thought back to the names that had haunted her. 

"The facility was called Mari-onica," he started and her eyes lit up in recognition. 

"You successfully kept the Skrulls from gaining access to the intelligence within the facility. Mari-onica is safe," he repeated slowly and waited. 

"Safe," she echoed. 

"Unfortunately, your commanding officer, Law-son, was killed along with the rest of the planet. Skrulls always kill the entire planet," he explained, twisting Mar-Vell's Terran alias into something Kree-sounding. Something he could use. 

"Mari-onica is safe. Law-son is dead," she affirmed quietly and stared at the ceiling again. She blinked away tears, then turned to him again. 

"I'm sorry, Commander Yon-Rogg, I don't remember any of that. I don't remember anything about myself." 

"Perhaps, we can start with what you do remember?" he ventured. 

She exhaled and cleared her throat. "What do I remember?" she muttered to herself. She squinted in concentration. "I remember heat. Pressure. I was angry. _So_ angry. There was pain, too. Makes sense I guess," she pointed at her body. "Pain that felt like it would pull me apart but…" 

"But what?" he leaned forward. 

"There was power, too. And," she turned to him with a puzzled expression, "there was… you. Your voice cut through everything. Comforting me. I remember your eyes and blue, blue everywhere." She looked back at the ceiling again, giving him nothing of her emotions. "Then nothing. Well, nothing until the crushing weight of your giant head woke me up." 

Yon-Rogg grinned lopsidedly, unsure of, but reveling in the power he had over her- savior and balm. He startled at the light touch of her hand on his own, her warm, brown eyes fixed on his.

"I never thanked you for saving my life." 

He waited. 

She also waited, a smile lurking beneath her grave expression. 

"Was…that it?" he asked. 

She kept a straight face. "Yeah, I was just making the general observation that I hadn't thanked you." She shrugged. "What, you want a brass band or something?" 

Her hand was still on his arm as he burst out laughing. 

"Come on," she said dubiously, quirking an eyebrow, "it wasn't that funny." 

"It's pity laughter," he explained. 

"Well, you would definitely know what _that_ sounds like," she retorted and grinned again, forcing another laugh from him. 

"I hate to interrupt your little chat," Commander Minn-Erva snapped from the doorway, "but don't you have work to do, Yon-Rogg?" 

He sat up, dislodging her hand from his arm and straightened his uniform. "This is Commander Minn-Erva." 

"Ma'am," the soldier nodded. 

Minn-Erva rolled her eyes and ignored the greeting. "It is interesting, though." 

"What?" he asked. 

"That pets _do_ resemble their owners," she jeered. 

Heat ran through him, although he kept his face carefully neutral. She'd made no secret of her belief that his genetic profile should have never been allowed access to the command track. Despite her prejudice, she was a valuable commander and their unit's best sniper. So, for the good of all Kree, he forced himself to think well of her. Of how useful she was. 

Minn-Erva, as always, seemed disappointed not to get a rise out of him. "Well, when you're quite through here, you have a message." 

"Thank you, Commander. What channel?" 

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Priority. It's the Supreme Intelligence. So, really, take your time," she sneered. 

"I'll be right there," he said and she marched off in a huff. 

He had prayed to the Supreme Intelligence, sought to correct his failure with Mar-Vell, with the energy core. Now, it was his reckoning and he would submit an even greater prize than he could have ever hoped. A living weapon. 

"Minn-Erva, eh? I _like_ her," the soldier decided. 

He cocked an eyebrow. 

She shrugged. "I like a woman who'll stab me in the back to my face." 

He laughed again, a gentler version of his earlier outburst. He gazed around the room, realizing he was purposefully trying to find a reason to stay with the soldier. And that he wasn't quite sure when the power he thought he'd had over her had become something different. Something shared between them. 

He straightened his uniform again, brushing non-existent specks off the shoulders, trying to distract himself from the thought. _Just leave!_ he admonished himself. 

"I have a lot of questions- Skrulls, for one, but they can wait," she said. 

He waggled a finger at her. "They'd better," he warned and was pleased that he'd brought another smile to her face. 

"What should I do if you don't come back?" 

"I'll always come back," he said unthinkingly and was shocked to find that he meant it. 

He saluted. "It's for the good of all Kree," he explained weakly as much to himself as to her. 

She weakly repeated the salute and lay back down to rest. 

His mind was uneasy on the trip to the priority comms officer, as Yon-Rogg wondered why the good of all Kree had never felt quite so good to him before.


	3. Mama would be real proud

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yon-Rogg communes with the Supreme Intelligence  
> and Vers wakes up with a lot of confusing thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three of the things I struggled with in reflecting on Captain Marvel, were the relationships between Carol and the Kree way of life, Carol and the USAF, and Carol and her powers. She could have chosen any other profession, could have chosen to fly planes on her own time and hold down a different job, but she chose military service during the Cold War. 
> 
> The thing that struck me about Carol/Vers is how curious she is about the world and other people. So, I found myself wondering how she could have even lasted six years with the Kree without challenging their Skrulls = evil doctrine. She may not have her past, but she has her thoughts and emotions in the present. 
> 
> I offer that she might have been uniquely prepped for that type of doctrine, if she were exposed to enough of the U.S. Cold War rhetoric and alarmist/suspicion about Communist spies in the U.S. I reached back to AF slogans, 1980s films about the U.S. vs. the USSR and a little further- to the Red Scare of the 1950s, but I think it could provide a pretty well-worn ground for someone disoriented, with no memory, to slip into. 
> 
> Given the ever-present threat of the Skrulls, I feel like she would have to have some incredibly compelling reasons NOT to experiment with her powers. Six years and she has basically no control over them? She's a disciplined character - she never gives up, so I imagine there would have to be something so traumatic associated with her powers, that she would never want to use them.

Yon-Rogg kneeled at the communications altar of the Supreme Intelligence. He relished the quiet of the dark chamber and readied himself for the solemn honor of communion. He didn't have long to wait – the tendrils of the AI soon wound their way around his neck. He briefly stiffened at its touch, afraid of what was to come, but forced himself to relax into the embrace of his god. Would the Intelligence banish him for his failure?

"I have seen all that transpired," it said, morphing into the form of his older brother. Much adored, much mourned. A Kree hero. _His_ hero.

He waited for punishment.

"And welcome you, Yon-Rogg. You have done well."

He bowed his head even further with relief.

"I have seen all that transpired. Our blood carries with the imperative to belong, our purpose. Her blood, your blood now, compels her to join the Kree. But you, Yon-Rogg, will help her _become_ one of us. You will teach her how to think like us, how to move, how to act, and if needed, how to die like one of us."

The form of his brother suddenly squinted at him. "But," it added, "there will be many challenges- her past not the least of them. Your emotion gives you creativity, Yon-Rogg. It allowed you the unique ability to make the best choice after Mar-Vell's execution. No other Kree could have done that. But it also remains your greatest weakness. As always, you must be ever vigilant against it."

"Yes, Supreme Intelligence."

"What did I tell you when I offered you the chance for command?" it asked.

"That I must be the best version of myself. And," he swallowed, "that emotion is my weakness."

"Never forget it. You have granted the Kree the greatest living weapon we have ever known. Train her, raise her up, and as her star rises, so too will yours. But if she fails…"

"For the good of all Kree," he murmured to himself as he exited the communion and came back to his waking mind.

***

_I must break you_

 

> _I **must** break you_

 

_Aim High_

_We are fighting wolverines_

_All that hate_

_is_

_gonna_

_burn you_

_burn you up, kid_

_Let's turn and burn_

> _Enemies from within_
> 
> _They are everywhere_
> 
> _Each carries in himself the germ of death for society_

_All that hate_

_keeps me warm_

_Uno Ab Alto_

_The germ of death_

The soldier lay staring at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of unfamiliar medical equipment and trying not to cry, while half-formed thoughts, voices, washed over her. She tried to keep calm, only belatedly aware of the heat and light emanating from her hands. 

"I told you -" Yon-Rogg said as he returned, only to throw himself to the floor as her energy pulse went wild. 

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," she whispered, staring at the glow fading from her fingertips. She looked at him, her brown eyes wet with fear, "I'm so sorry." She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth gently, repeating her apology. 

"It's alright," he said as he picked himself off the floor. He held up a hand to curious onlookers and the security personnel. "It's alright." 

He pointed to the space next to her on the bed. "Mind if I sit down?" 

She nodded absentmindedly and continued gently rocking, staring off at some point on the wall. 

He remembered the way her hand had lingered on his after the transfusion...there will be challenges, he thought ruefully, and wrapped his arms around her own, repeating his own refrain of comfort. He rocked her in his arms until at last she quieted and awareness returned to her eyes. 

"You could have killed me, could have killed everyone on the ship," he began and she buried her head in his forearm. 

"We could have died today because you didn't have control," he repeated. "But," he smiled at her, "it's a good thing I am an excellent teacher. Like with any other weapon, it requires training, practice. Right now, it's not a weapon - it's an emotional response. Until you can use it like a weapon, don't use it at all." 

She nodded and tucked herself more completely into him. 

_Too easy,_ he thought. 

"Thank you, Vers." 

She refocused on him. "Vers? Is that me? I mean, my name?" 

He nodded. 

She tried it out. "Veeeers," she laughed weakly. "So when do we start practicing?" 

"When your medic isn't about to throw me out of the room," he said, spying the impatient toe-tapping of her medical staff. 

"Please, don't go," she blurted. She looked at the medic. "Can he stay? I'd hate to accidentally redecorate the ship," she raised her fingertips and the gathering crowd cringed. 

"Fine," the medic yielded. "But," she ordered Yon-Rogg, "keep her from harming herself." 

"For the good of all Kree," Yon-Rogg agreed. She laid her head down on his thigh, her fingers crackling, until he began gently stroking her sun-fire hair. Softer than he thought it would be. 

_Too easy,_ he thought again and soothed himself to sleep as well.


	4. Exactly 57 Card-Carrying Members

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yon-Rogg and Vers explore the motivations and skills of the Skrulls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Something that really interests me is how a society functions when there is the constant threat of being replaced or imitated by an enemy. We see the little glimpses of it in the neon billboards with Skrull faces in the film, but the deleted scene of Yon-Rogg's school lesson jokingly references something devastating to trust and individual relationships.  
> How could you trust anyone?  
> I'll be exploring that over the fic and using more film quotes from Carol's past that are flitting around her subconscious -- trying to warn her about Skrulls...and the Supreme Intelligence.

He had woken, showered, and eaten before Vers even began to stir. She would need these things as well, and he set about attaining food and a separate washroom for her, while trying to savor the fragments of his unusually peaceful dreams.

His cradle-brother, Kon-Rogg, tall and strong, who immediately sent the school bullies and their pink taunts running. He had already joined the Collective by the time Yon-Rogg received his commission – murdered by Skrulls during a border planet defense – but he knew how proud Kon would have been.

An eye-watering yawn from the gurney drew his attention back to Vers. She stretched, checked that her hands weren't glowing, and glanced suspiciously at the Kree food placed beside her.

"What _is_ this?" she asked dubiously, poking the green mass of protein with a spoon.

"Breakfast."

"I'm not hungry. Tell me about Skulls," she said.

"It's _Skrulls_ and don't you want to bathe and change first?"

"Will a shower and fresh set of duds help me fight whatever Skrulls are?"

"Eat and I will tell you everything I know," he yielded.

"Deal," she replied and stuck out her hand.

"What's a deal?" he asked.

"Forget it," she muttered and set herself to the task of shoveling as much food in her mouth as possible.

"The Skrulls invade planets that belong to other races, infiltrate their leaders, slaughter anyone who tries to stop them, and claim the planet for themselves. They have one goal – to kill us and our allies so they can take over the galaxy."

"Capabilities?" she asked around a mouthful.

"Technologically, laughable. The Kree are among the most advanced races in the galaxy."

She looked relieved. "So, what's the problem, then? Ideology?"

"No. They have an innate ability to take another's form, replicating it down to the genetic level."

She shoved the plate to the side. "To…the genetic level," she echoed slowly. "How do you know…how do _I_ know that I'm, that you're not one of these things!"

He kept a wary eye on her fists, trying to discern if there was a flicker there. "Keep calm, Vers."

"Keep calm? You tell me that these things can take over your body and you want me to keep calm!"

"Yes," he said simply. "Because you're safe. Because I am here and you are safe."

She quirked an eyebrow at that, but her breathing visibly slowed. "Go on."

"Skrulls can only absorb recent memories – "

"What?! They absorb memories!"

"Control yourself," he admonished. "Recent ones," he repeated.

"I don't know if you're aware of this, hot shot, but recent memories are all I have! I could be a Skrull and you wouldn't know it!"

"While I admire your selfless regard for the threat you could pose, the Supreme Intelligence has examined you and found you to be Kree."

"That's the thing you mentioned before. Supreme Intelligence."

"Yes."

She turned her attention to the hot mug of energy-serum, and took a tentative sip. "So… that would be…help me here."

"The Supreme Intelligence is our deity."

The mug sloshed onto her hand. "Your deity."

"Our deity, the Kree deity, yes."

"You talk to this deity. Directly."

"Of course," he said, puzzled. "Although its shape is unable to be comprehended by our minds, so it takes a familiar form for each Kree. Is that what you meant by direct or not?"

"So, you talk to this thing and it talks back?"

"Naturally."

"This. Is. Amazing. Are you kidding me?! Wait, is it super cryptic or anything when it talks?"

"Of course not. How would we know what to do if it was left open to interpretation?"

She burst out laughing – joy, he saw. "This is incredible! Do you know how rare it is to have that certainty?! To have a god that talks to you?!"

"It's quite common, actually…I mean, you can hardly get the Asgardians to _stop_ talking. Asgardians are -"

"I don't care. Tell me more about the Supreme Intelligence. The thing that told you I was Kree. I don't know what gods my…you know…my before-people worshipped, but I get the feeling that they didn't like me."

"Your gods didn't like you?" he asked.

"Yeah, my…" she stopped. "I don't know why I have that feeling, but I do. Something to do with…" she waved the half-finished thoughts away and fell silent.

"Well, the Supreme Intelligence loves everyone and wants only for them to be the best version of themselves."

"Fresh," she smiled. "So, this thing can tell whether or not you're a Skrull. Does it do that all the time for everyone?"

He shook his head. "No, you were a special case…because of the battle and your memory loss. For ordinary citizens, the Supreme Intelligence implants an identification code into the unconscious at birth. It can only be spoken when directly primed, and is then immediately forgotten by the conscious mind. It never becomes a recent memory and is therefore safe from imitation."

She twisted her hands in her lap uneasily. "I don't…I don't have one of –"

"You're alright, Vers. The Supreme Intelligence is going to give you a new number when we reach Hala. The capital of the Kree Empire," he added.

"How long until we get there?"

"27 hours, give or take."

"And how long until I can fight Skrulls?"

"You need to recover your strength, Vers."

She slapped his arm lightly. "I'm fine!"

He suppressed a smile and stood up. "Okay, so I'll show you to the shower."

She swung her legs over the side of the bed and gently placed them on the ground. "I _told_ you," she said and promptly collapsed into his arms when she tried to put her full weight down.

"So I see," he mused. "The Skrulls will be very impressed with your ability to fall."

"I didn't fall. The floor rushed up toward me – the two have nothing to do with one another."

"Well, I'll just get a mobility assistant in case the _floor_ tries anything again."

"I'll wait here and guard the room," she said with a smile.

She panted from the exertion of getting into the mobility device and learning to control its movement, so Yon-Rogg asked the medic for a stim – for both of them. The effect on her was immediate and sharp and as she yet again challenged him to a race down the hallways (he lost. again) he made a mental note to ask the medic for a weaker stim for her next time.

First, a shower," she decided.

" _Thank_ you!" he said dramatically. "I was just about to volunteer to join the Collective myself rather than spend one more minute in your foul presence."

"Smart ass," she growled. "So, where is it?"

He hooked his thumb toward a door behind her. "I'll wait."

She disappeared into the room.

After about ten minutes, the door opened again. "I've got some fresh clothes for you, Vers and -" he simply stopped. "You haven't showered at all."

She blushed. "Look, I tried to figure it out on my own and couldn't. I need help to undress and I pressed every stupid button on that stupid thing and all I did was steam dry and probably de-louse my filthy clothes."

"I'll find a medic or..." he spied Minn-Erva striding toward them, fury in her eyes.

"Do not ask her," Vers ordered.

"Are you happy, Pinky?" Minn-Erva bit off.

"I don't understand commander, what -"

"I've been demoted. The Supreme Intelligence asked to see me after it was done with you." Tears rose to her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Minn-Erva -"

"Shut up! You and your night-light better just stay out of my way."

Vers watched her walk back to the way she'd come, making sure she'd turned the corner before speaking. "You know what, call her back. I definitely want a woman who holds a grudge like that to be alone with me naked."

"She's a good soldier, Vers. She won't feel that way about you forever."

Vers laughed. "Oh, I know. She's going to feel that way about _you_. So, medic? Or could you just help me really quick and then get out?"

He hesitated, then looked at her hands. _There will be challenges_

"Sure, I can do that," he said.

"So...this is awkward," Vers said when they entered the small chamber.

He grunted, trying to figure out the best way to remove her clothes while preserving her modesty and not re-injuring her. He leaned over the chair and focused on the task.

"It'll be less awkward if you talk," she said, moving her head so he could try to remove part of her Terran flightsuit.

"About what?"

"Anything. What's the Collective? Why did she call you 'pinky'?"

"I'm just going to have to tear this off," he said to himself.

"Don't let me stop you."

He took out a utility knife and began cutting the uniform away. "The Collective is the place we go when we die. Our kin and loved ones are all there." She gasped as he accidentally removed some flesh with the primitive cloth. "Sorry."

"S'ok," she murmured, her face paler than before. "Pinky?"

He proceeded more carefully, making sure each section of the uniform was free before trying to pull it from her body. " 'Pinky' is a pejorative term for Kree lacking the blue skin color."

"Racist? Now I'm extra glad she's demoted."

"We're all the same race, Vers. Although sometimes purists like Minn-Erva would rather believe we aren't. Just getting the last bit here," he warned her and pulled. "This is more complicated than I believed," he said, studying the underclothing that remained. He swallowed nervously. "Do you want me to..."

"Yeah, just cut it off."

He cut the straps from her shoulders and upper back, letting her cross her arms over her chest before he removed the fabric. Then, he looked down. He reached toward her upper thigh and lightly grabbed the delicate material so he could saw through it.

"I'll take it from here clothing-wise, thanks. Shower?" she asked and he explained the dials and nobs. "I'll be quick," she promised. Two minutes later, she held out her hand for the dry clothing. Ten seconds after that, she handed him back the dry clothing and asked him to get the same clothes, but in his size or larger. "Pants are a no-go," she explained.

He went to his pack and retrieved a spare sparring uniform, then stood in front of the crack in the door.

"I'd just hand it to you, but I don't want to wait ten minutes and still find you naked," he said, receiving a strange glance from a passing medic.

She opened the door to allow him entry.

"That's literally something I've never heard before," she joked.

He ignored the jibe and kept his face as expressionless as possible. "Hold your arms up as best you can and I'll do the rest," he said. "Now," he said when that was done, "move yourself forward a bit."

She did, needing to slide her chin across his shoulder to make room in the small space. The quasi-embrace allowed his shirt to drape down her back, which she then tugged down the rest of the way. It resembled a sort of sparring dress- short, yes- but, clean. She sagged back in the chair, utterly exhausted.

"Let's go, Vers," he said as she nodded off.

Back in her room, he found fresh nourishment -- racing up and down the halls and the shower debacle had taken them the entire morning. 21 hours until Hala now. He lifted her out of the chair, her head briefly lolling against his neck and gently placed her down on the bed.

"Yon-Rogg?" she asked sleepily.

"Yes?"

"Will you stay with me again?"

"Of course." 

"Yon-Rogg?" 

"Yes, Vers?" 

"Will the Supreme Intelligence really have a new number for me?" 

"Yes. A new identification number and ways to control your powers. Anything that lessens or diminishes your best self, Vers, the Supreme Intelligence can simply remove." 

He stretched his legs out along the bed and settled the data pad on his chest. Vers curled near, but not in, his other arm. While he had stopped for Vers, Starforce hadn't stopped for him. Battle plans to review, security procedures to approve, recruitment files for evaluation, all requiring his full attention. He'd soon convinced himself that he'd forgotten the smell of her clean hair, the feel of her head on his shoulder, and the constellation of marks down her neck. He convinced himself he had put from his mind the errant thoughts of kissing that constellation downwards.

He'd put it so far from his mind, that he didn't notice when Vers began to tremble in her sleep, to mutter nonsense words as nightmares tore through her. Fragments of things she didn't understand. 

_Raymond Shaw is the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life_

**R.J. Macready, helicopter pilot. U.S. outpost number 31**

_Attack ships on fire_

off

the shoulder of Orion

I've watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate

**Why not a space flower? Why do we always expect metal ships?**

_My. Name. Is. Harry. Palmer._

She redecorated the room again.


	5. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very short chapter focused on the space between them

Pain filled the world.

Not pain.

_Agony_

It washed over her, leaving fear in its place.

Not fear, either.

Fear was a child's darkened room, a breath before a jump, a love letter sent before reason reasserted itself.

 

_This world will crumble_

_Everything you love, gone_

_Everyone you love, dead_.

 

And there was a roar of hunger, of victory, of something _alien_.

Not her people. Her people had lost.

 

This was terror, this was despair, this was the end of all things.

 

She wept as planet after planet fell into a green, ridged, shrieking slavery.

Rage took her then, rage at these monsters, rage at those who believed she'd never rise through the ranks because she was a

_pink_

_woman_

Rage at her brother for 

_dying_

_teaching her the stars but never wanting her to touch them_

 

To touch...

skin like a summer sky

dark eyes

an unexpected smile

and heat from frantic lips, biting, pulling at clothing in darkened corners. 

 

The dark eyes suddenly disappeared, caresses gone, and she was left alone. 

Again. 

But even a glimmer of that desire was worth fighting for and she grinned into that green abyss and roared in challenge. 

 

So she

_trained_

_held on_

and soon she was flying

_experimental planes_

_missions through Skrull-occupied territory_

 

Because she would die to protect what she loved and she would go out fighting. 

When she awoke, she was home. 

 


End file.
